Walking these Hallowed Halls again
by Zeoniu Zekial Kal Leos
Summary: Harry Potter had thought his task would be over once Lord Voldemort killed him. When his eyes opened up and he found himself in purgatory, that notion was quickly erased. Now the chance comes to do things over again, but the question remains... of when? SEMI-PERMANENT HIATUS IN EFFECT AS OF 6/22/13. (May update, but honestly, this is a train-wreck. I need to revise so much first.)
1. Chapter 1: Set forth once and again

_He lay in a bright mist, though it was not a mist like he had ever experienced before. His surroundings were not hidden by cloudy vapor; rather the cloudy vapor had not yet formed into surroundings. The floor on which he lay seemed to be white, neither warm nor cold, but simply there, a flat, blank something on which to be._~Kings Cross, page 705.

* * *

Even as he stared outward at the seeming emptiness of his surroundings they began to take on shape and form. One such form was tall and moving forward out of the distance and toward him at a slow, steady pace.

He glanced around and sat up as the mist rescinded back toward where it came from and he could see thick marble walls come into view several feet to either side and even behind his back. They carried onward far over head and well into the distance, void of decoration in any way. The moving shape ahead began to take on more of a definable outline as the mist cleared and soon enough the dark and messy black hair, slight stubble, and almost-gaunt narrow body of Sirius Black came into sight.

He didn't understand. _Sirius was dead_. Did that mean he was_...?  
_  
A grimace twisted Sirius face as he finally arrived at the sitting youth before him, and he leaned down to wrap his arms around his godsons back tightly. Harry returned the gesture almost awkwardly at first before gripping him tighter and for the first time here used his voice. "_Sirius_..?!" he gasped, surprising himself with the emotion behind it.

His godfather squeezed him tighter before pulling back and dragging Harry to his feet. "_I didn't expect to see you again for another hundred years_." Sirius told him in a low tone. "_I didn't think you would actually die so young._" he added, not bothering to turn his head away to hide the emotion on his face or single tear that ran down it.

Harry's own displayed surprise rather than shock that he was actually dead after all. "I don't remember it. The final battle. Just marching out to the Forbidden Forest, and that's where it all goes dark." he replied slowly, as though trying out his words first before deciding to speak them. "Where are we?" he asked in the same tone.

Sirius let out a harsh sigh and wrapped one arm around the back of his godsons shoulders, then paused and released them. "Perhaps you should visualize some clothing.. ?" the note of mirth was displaced by sadness. Harry glanced downward and let out a sharp yelp before covering his body up with one hand and looking around for something to wear. As if by magic a set of folded white robes appeared at his side.

After dressing himself Harry looked expectantly at his godfather for the answer to his question. Sirius had composed himself enough to give it. "_Purgatory_." he responded in a not-so-flat voice, eyes growing narrow. Expression fading to a frown Harry turned to look at him again. "Did you say--" his voice held a note of confusion and incredulity to it. "_Come on_, I'll explain along the way." Sirius interrupted as he motioned with his other hand for them to begin walking. Reluctantly Harry did so.

* * *

They had been walking for an hour. The walls carried onward and onward with no end in sight, yet neither felt tired or sore so far. Along the way Harry had stopped a couple of times as what he was being told made his stomach lurch and the floor seem to fall away from beneath him, however.

"Just to confirm this now, the accidental Horcrux in me _would_ have died if my blood wasn't used in the ritual to create his new body?" Harry asked. "And now I can't go back- I _could_, but it would only keep the Horcrux alive and chain Voldemort to immortality-- so my soul is trapped here?"

Sirius' grimace was all the answer Harry needed. The young adult wizard clenched his eyes closed and murmured something softly beneath his breath, then slightly louder with more emotion behind it. Sirius had little trouble picking it up. "_Damn you, Voldemort!_"

Breathing harshly Harry looked around for something, _anything_, that he might vent his anger on. Unlike with the robes nothing appeared from thin air before him. Sirius placed a placating hand on his godsons shoulder. "I know, Harry. _Trust me_, I_ know_." he said. "But think of it like this, your soul was meant for somewhere better to rest. You don't belong here in bloody _purgatory_."

Harry looked over his shoulder and asked "What are you trying to say, Sirius?" Sirius smiled, and it was worthy of a Marauder. "I'm saying your fight isn't over yet." frowning at the emptiness of that response, Harry turned to face him completely. "Harry, when someone dies, they're either supposed to move on or remain stuck on earth as a ghost, discounting any rubbish immortality rituals." he began.

"The rare exception crops up when prophecy becomes entangled. Frankly, we shouldn't even be having this conversation- Voldemort _killed you_, prophecy _fulfilled_, endless nightmares and torture for the world-- but you did something he couldn't have expected." Sirius paused and waited to see if Harry would put it together.

Harry waited to hear what he had done, but with no forthcoming continuation, began looking through his memories. _I never really accomplished anything that should..._ and just like that, as though Hermionine was standing beside him and ridiculing him for not thinking of it sooner, the answer came to mind and tumbled past his lips. "_The Hallows!_" he shouted.

Sirius winched at the tone and rubbed at one ear sharply to displace any ringing, but smiled none the less. "Right in one. By all rights, you can't be terminally killed. That's why you could return to earth like you are and keep up the fight, but the horcrux in side of you would remain alive as well." he stated.

Harry's face fell again. "Then what good does it do me?" he demanded, getting angry again. Responding in a more subdued yet annoyed tone, "It open's up a new path for you to take! Since you're unwilling to return to life, and the uniter of the Hallows can't rightfully remain dead, you've been shuffled into purgatory until you make up your mind! _But that's what is so important_, _you _don't _have to_!" he exclaimed, staring Harry in the eye.

"..." lapsing into a moody silence, Harry simply stared right back, the pleasure of seeing his godfather again slightly dulled by the unjustness of the situation. Sirius heaved a sigh and then walked right by him. "Harry, there's a reason why Time-turners are practically the only known method of time-travel. The other is damn near impossible to meet the standard requirement for, let alone pull off under the best of circumstances." he stated.

Harry watched him walk by and balked in mid-motion at the statement. "_Time-travel_?" he repeated skeptically. "Yeah." he smiled at Harry again. "It's a pretty fair prank, all things considered, to have a loophole like this. But you'll be able to return. I don't really know when, and that's pretty much up to you, but be careful if you go back _too _far. Your soul may not have anything to _house it_." Sirius explained.

A question that had been nagging him in the back of his mind finally cropped up and Harry asked it. "How do you know all this stuff?" his tone was doubting. "Ah, that's the crux of the matter, isn't it." turning to face Harry fully, Sirius looked down toward his hands. They were fading. "I'm not really here, Harry. I'm on a short leave from paradise to fulfill my final transaction at the time of death. A fifteen-minute spirit guide, so to speak. I was only told enough to get you back on the mortal coil, and if I don't, then... _well_, Dumbledore used to say there were worse fates than death." he finished on a soft laugh without much humor to it, his eyes losing some of the light.

"... Who sent you?" Harry questioned, taking a step back at this further unexpected development. Sirius shrugged. "As far as I can tell, it was your parents. But I had just spoken with them five minutes, _relatively speaking_, earlier. We were watching you on the way up the path with Moony. There's something you have to understand, Harry, that just as it was with the graveyard three years ago for you, the shades you summoned with the Resurrection Stone weren't really _us_. Just fabrications of a greater magic than you or I can understand." his lower body was all but entirely gone by this point and his upper wasn't far behind.

Harry swallowed at the reminder, of the things spoken and said at those times to him by ghostly images. It left a pang of regret. "So once you're gone here..." he trailed off. Sirius nodded grimly. "Then I'm gone for good. We won't meet again, unless you do something so dramatic that your soul is banished or exiled off earth, and anything that could accomplish _that_ would probably see you heading _downstairs_ rather than _up to the attic_, I believe..." another tear leaked out of his eye as he said those words.

Harry shook his head and stepped closer and wrapped his arms around his godfather tightly. Sirius returned the gesture as best as he still could. "Live a good life, Harry. The only ot--her way to meet is to forgo the Hallows this time aro--und. And you pro--bably won't sur--" whatever else he had been about to say was lost as his spirit was drawn back and away, leaving Harry clutching at empty space. He stared blankly and then blurriness toward where Sirius had just been, not yet realizing the tears that had formed at the sudden disappearance.

It left him feeling lonelier than when he had seen Snapes memories, had learned that it was his fate to die in the Forbidden Forest by himself so the others he knew could live better lives. A short while later he eventually moved through it, and focused on the fact that Voldemort had managed to cause him grief yet again. Harry frowned and his shoulders stiffened with anger.

_I'm through being torn apart by Voldemort. I'm through with having my life and that of my friends demolished at the work of one insane dark wizard._ He thought. _Sirius said I had to go back? Then I'll go back, and this time, I'll make sure he never gets the chance to rise up in the first place._

**End of Chapter One**.

**Preview of next chapter**: Unspeakable Jacob looked the man over sprawled along the ground from the comfort of a proper stunning field. His wand danced in his fingers as he summoned a sheet of parchment and a quill to his other hand and began cataloging the details attentively.

"Average height, underdeveloped weight. Long, straggly black hair. Green hued eyes. Fading black scar in the center of the forehead. Numerable aged scars dotting the rest of the nude body." his quill wrote down quickly if sloppily. With two swift motions of his wand to check the magic aptitude of the John Doe, Unspeakable Jacob froze in his steps around the field.


	2. Chapter 2: Wandering through darkness

A/N: I am very surprised by the influx of attention this story received, but also pleased by it in turn. Thank you for the kind reviews and subscriptions.

* * *

As Harry thought those words the hall began to grow dim. He blinked and looked around as the mist began to collect around his feet again and rise upward to quickly obscure his vision. He looked up toward the sky and then back behind him, noticing the entire length was turning black. _Whats going on?_ he thought, fighting down a growing anxiety.

He took several steps forward in the hope that it would get him closer toward wherever he was supposed to go to, but the mist had already reached his waist and seemed to be pushing him backwards like a firm ocean current. It was becoming harder to see with every moment that passed and Harry felt as though the walls were closing in on him, leaving a suffocated feeling to the area.

"Sirius! _Sirius, what am I supposed to do!_" he yelped just before the mist rose above his mouth and nose, then over his eyes and finally engulfed his mass of black hair. It pressed in on him tightly, but not as much as Apparation usually did. Nevertheless his anxiety had grown to a full-blown panic as he was left in utter darkness, crushed in on from all directions, and he struggled to move forward or backward or in any way at all. His body grew numb from the cold of darkness and his thoughts slowed to a crawl.

After what felt like hours the mist slowly rescinded and dropped a madly shivering Harry to the ground softly. He barely took note of the eerie green glow illuminating the floor, collapsing to the ground and panting desperately, eyes wide and staring around his surroundings almost dully as his thoughts began to return to normal speed.

At his back a wall had been created, while the length of the hall shortened dramatically to a mere dozen meters. The end was strangely bathed in shadows however as the sky had developed pinpricks of white and blue light flickering back and forth.

_"Rise, Master of Death._" A hollow voice echoed from the end of the hall. Harry shuddered. He didn't feel like rising, and even if he did, he wasn't sure his legs could have supported his weight at the moment. He pushed one hand beneath his chest, then dragged the other forward and off of the floor a few inches.

_Where am I now?_ he questioned silently, untrusting of his surroundings. When Sirius had been with him, Harry had welcomed the empty bright hall, but without his godfather around it seemed as though the walls themselves had grown to dislike him, and he didn't want to stay around here any longer than he had to.

Despite the numbness and chill, Harry managed to support himself on both arms and get a knee beneath his body, then it's twin before rising unsteadily to his feet one at a time. He laid one hand against the wall to his left before drawing it away again, glancing at the surface as through he expected it to bite him like one of Hagrids Monsterbook of Monsters.

Pushing himself forward he began to approach the end of the hall, not yet realizing that with every step he took the wall at his back drew closer inward. _Are those... stars?_ He asked himself as his eyes caught sight of the faint light overhead and paused to look up. He jumped as the wall brushed against his back and he took the rest of his journey to the end of the hall at a quick stride, not stopping again least anything else of this place change against him.

When he arrived the space at the end of the hall had expanded to a seven foot wide spherical area. Resting at mid-chest was a large and weathered triangular bronze water basin, a silver substance resting eerily calm within that Harry knew well to be neither solid nor liquid, a swirling material used by Pensieves' to review memories.

"W.. what is this?" he questioned aloud as he was drawn toward it. Images began to rise to just beneath the surface, and he saw students from his past flicker by, at first slowly and then more rapidly as the path and time he was to choose was subconsciously chosen. He already knew when he had to arrive, he just didn't realize he knew it yet. The basin at last brought up a trio of images.

Sirius, as he fell toward the veil. Voldemort, as he stood before the gates of Godrics Hollow. And, lastly, Tom Riddle, as he stood before Albus Dumbledore toward the end of his school years. Three images, one for each Hallow united, and three points in time where Harry most dearly wished he could alter events. The choice was his to decide.

_I could save Sirius. I could stop him from coming to the ministry... _he thought, and for a moment it felt right to select it. _But... that's still too late._ The feeling faded just as quickly as it came and he turned toward the second. _Could I stop Voldemort as I am now? Could my parents and I do it? If dad had his wand, if he knew to be ready... ?_

He shook his head, seeing a few tear drops roll down and splash into the surface of the silver material and then simply float in place, undisturbed and retaining their shape. Harry turned finally to the third image, and he felt his anger come back into him, banishing the chill of this place and instead suffusing him with a burning warmth. _That might already be too late, but at least we'll be on equal footing! I might even have a year over him of additional learning at that point, and even if I'm wrong, at least I can contact Dumbledore and try to work something out with him._

With his choice realized consciously, the other two images faded away, and Harry found his hands gripping the edges of the basin tightly. He took a deep breath, stared down into Riddles burning eyes sharply, and threw himself face first toward the surface.

And all was black and dark again.

* * *

It had been a slow day, relatively speaking, for the Department of Mysteries. The only bright side was that it meant no new problems had cropped up just yet, and with the Unspeakables already stretched thin with the war against Grindelwald and not only trying to locate his exact position, but to figure out _why_ his power had grown so rapidly in such a short period as well as to pinpoint _when_ his next strike would occur_ before _it could happen, there simply wasn't enough of them to look into the rest of the situations their jobs were meant to.

Thus, when the mechanisms set up in the Time Chamber to warn of interference in the natural chain of events began to activate, Unspeakable Jacob was the only one of his team left to investigate and confirm or deny a reasonable situation, and then deem it worthy of counterference or not. Sometimes the wizard or witch in question simply offed themselves in the attempt, meaning little was needed to be done on the Unspeakables' part.

But from year to year, there _was_ reasonable cause of worry when some one of exceptional strength succeeded. _Then_ it was a matter of figuring out how to prevent a crossover from _that _era to the _intended_ era. Very troublesome and, pardon the pun, time consuming.

Unspeakable Jacob deemed the situation was both confirmed and worthy of counterference after a brief examination, and for once it seemed whomever it was was coming from an _unknown_ period to the present. "Unknown?" he asked aloud, not sure if the machinery had been fooled or if it truly couldn't place a timeline to the figure. Further unfortunately for him, the warning came too late for him to do much more than activate the field for when the time-traveler arrived and prepare to apprehend them before they could get away.

He stepped back and pressed his wand to the floor, sending out a splash of reddish pink light in the approximated area of arrival. Less then a moment later and a sharp flare of green light erupted in the middle of the room with a shuddering crack, depositing a smoking human form directly in the center of the trapped area.

Instantly a dome of the same reddish pink energy enshrouded the figure with the effect of six stunners, rendering him or her unconscious before they could speak or even think anything. Carefully approaching it was confirmed that the figure was both human, and a male at that. Satisfied that he wouldn't be waking up anytime soon, the warnings were reset for the next stasis anomaly.

Unspeakable Jacob looked the man over sprawled along the ground from the comfort of a proper stunning field before beginning to pace around the naked form, and his wand danced in his fingers as he summoned a sheet of parchment and a quill to his other hand to begin cataloging the details.

"Average height, underdeveloped weight. Long, straggly black hair. Green hued eyes. Fading black scar in the center of the forehead. Numerable aged scars dotting the rest of the nude body." his quill wrote down quickly if sloppily. With two swift motions of his wand to check and view the magic aptitude of the John Doe, Unspeakable Jacob froze in his steps around the field.

While he was staring in disbelief, his quill continued to write down the details. _Magical aptitude ranking... Abnormally High. Core growth at twice that of modern wizards and witches._ It wrote down, then paused to await further instructions. After at least ten seconds of looking at the blazing sphere of multi-toned lines weaving and slithering around at mid-chest level and trailing out beneath the mans skin, he re-performed the testing spell and the ocular spell and noticed no differences.

It wasn't a fluke. Whoever this man was, he was exceptionally powerful compared to the general populace. Not in the same rank of Professor Dumbledore or Grindelwald were, if the rumors were to be believed, but still on the way to the level beneath them if his growth didn't slow down any in the last few years.

And the simple fact that it still had potential to grow indicated that this man was still a mid-teenager or at the oldest seventeen. Certainly under twenty. "This can't be right." he said in a flat tone. "A student-aged wizard doesn't have the control to work a spell capable of transcending times barriers, no matter how much raw strength is at their command." he stated in the same tone.

Just before he switched the spell off he noticed something that drew him in closer, altering his angle of view. A narrow black line spiraled in among the vibrant greens, but where as the others were smooth and straightforward, if a little narrower or wider at some points, the black spiral was jagged and contorted. It had embedded itself in the lines around it, attached too deeply to be removed by any means that came to mind at that moment. "Looks like there's more to him than I assumed."

**End of Chapter Two**.

**Preview of next chapter**: Harry opened his eyes warily. Even unconsciously he had been aware that something was wrong, something was very wrong with where he was. The sight that greeted him merely confirmed it. He was seated in a chair with metal chains binding his arms and legs to it, only this time he was faced with a man he had never seen before in a set of robes only glanced at once or twice earlier in his life.

He was back in the Department of Mysteries, and from the looks of it, he wasn't any more welcome now than he had been then. And to top it off, his tongue had just glued itself to the top of his mouth, preventing him from speaking even if he wanted to, thanks to the Unspeakable standing before him. "... Let's begin with why you're here."


	3. Chapter 3: Arriving in a troubled time

A/N: Thank you all for the kind reviews. Didn't mean to let the time between updates slip so sharply, but here's chapter three at last. Please try to keep going through some of the technical terms and ask questions about them as needed.

In short, the ministry isn't evil or bad really. The danger a time-traveler could wreck against events both positive and negative, and ultimately shift the path of history toward is too great to allow one to just go home after being caught.

The example I can best give is to look at Camelot's fall. In this story it actually existed at one point and suffered terribly for Merlins efforts to preserve it, and the ministry wants to keep that same kind of catastrophe from occurring to England or any other fairly large magical community by nipping the effect at the start.

For a visual guide toward what _the barriers_ design looks like, please view i40(dot)tinypic(dot)com/t675eb(Dot)png for some reason this site won't accept a natural link, so (dot) should be replaced with . as needed.

* * *

Leaving the John Doe within the stunning field, Unspeakable Jacob retreated back to the Prime Chamber-- or entryway to the other Chambers-- and jotted down his own opinion on the subject to his parchment. "Unknown and potentially cursed mark has become deeply entwined within the illegal traveler's _corelines_, a sign not often depicted as a positive omen in the few instances it has been discovered and noted." he paused a moment to consider just how much to remark about it without first taking the time to study the effect in person to greater detail.

_His magical levels could be effected by the_ black spiral_, which in and of itself is the strongest source to be liable for his ability to breach time's course,_ he thought, _and if it _is_ the source, than the question remains as to _what source_ did he find to use? Which did he manage to lodge so _deeply _within his source of magic that it didn't outright kill him in the process?_

Not many objects with the juice to transcend the ebb and flow were left following Camelots fall; however the insubstantial nature they possessed, making it impossible to physically grasp or alter, would allow greater stability within such a chaotic vortex.

As most of the former objects were still kept in check under the Austrian and South African ministries and no reports had been filed over the last few days from the Unspeakables in place there, he moved onward with a frown to the known rituals in that general area instead.

Albeit rare, a handful of rituals existed-- both by the Ministry of Magic and by the hand of Merlin far earlier, respectively, that required very specific preparations of the field as well as conditions of the body to deny the hold time had over one's form, therefore allowing it to walk freer along the linear path.

A very detrimental area to invest in for the long term yet less likely to instantly kill, as the famed wizard himself proved with Camelot.

_Those leave behind marks of their own. But not on the corelines-- never on a travelers magic. It always manifests to the body, rotting away skin and the upper matter first. And I don't recall any of those signs showing up on his body._ He had managed to dismiss two of the known methods fairly easily.

Which regrettably left him with one last possibility-- and one most likely but all the more destructive if it was true. A sour taste entered his mouth as he returned to his parchment.

"Illegal traveler is liable to be possessed by an upper tier of _chrono-loci_, potentially in bargain with it in exchange for a second or third chance. Subject to be examined and questioned in Courtroom 9 following one hour of preparation. Signed, Unspeakable #299-42." with a sharp flick the parchment rolled itself up tightly and a blue seal wrapped around the middle.

In a few minutes one of the owls would be carrying it to the Minister. The sour taste remained firm within his mouth the whole while.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes warily. Even unconscious he had been aware that something was wrong, something was very wrong with where he was. The sight that greeted him merely confirmed the fact; he was seated in a chair with metal chains binding his arms and legs to it, only this time he was faced with a man he had never seen before in a set of robes only glanced at once or twice earlier in his life.

He was back in the Department of Mysteries, and from the looks of it, he wasn't any more welcome now than he had been then. And to top it off, his tongue had just glued itself to the top of his mouth, preventing him from speaking even if he wanted to, thanks to the Unspeakable sitting before him. In a moment the man had risen to his feet, drawing out a thin ash wand. "... Let's begin with why you're here." he began as one hand took a hold of Harry's chin and tilted it back and into the light better.

Their eyes met and a sudden stabbing probe collided with the back of his pupils, and a flash of memory was tugged close to the surface.

But it faded before it had hardly even formed, and the room never vanished around the two of them as it usually was with Legilimency. Harry realized, and rather quicker than he might have expected, that unlike the efforts of Snape from his fifth year at Hogwarts this Unspeakables motions seemed... _unrefined_. More rough around the edges, a net with holes too wide for the fishes it was attempting to reel in.

But the attempt continued after a brief pause. Another flash of memory, fading away at the edges even as it grew closer to the surface, until that too had gone. It had been of Harry and Dumbledore conversing in the late headmasters office, somewhere around second year if he remembered rightly. Before anything of real use could be drawn from his mind Harry tore his eyes away quickly when the next pause between attacks came, directing his gaze overhead at the dim lights.

Frowning deeper, the Unspeakable released his chin and cast a third tier body bind with his ash wand. Harry was locked into his position so rigidly he could hardly breath, and each small lungful was an effort to draw in and release through his nostrils. It would not take him long to become lightheaded.

The Unspeakable summoned another sheet of paper and a quill as he had before, and this time hesitated in his beginning of the report. At last he set to work and spoke his words aloud, standing over Harry's restricted form and staring down at his face over-all to try and pick up on any kind of emotion or forewarning that what he was about to write was actually true.

"Illegal traveler has a heavily defended will. Resistance to the newly defined realm of _Legilimencery_ verifies a _Chrono-loci _has settled into place, it being the obvious answer to the black spiral mentioned in prior report. When coupled with the abnormally high magical reserves, the chances of use against the Dark Wizard Grindelwald is grossly outweighed by the danger represented." the Unspeakable paused, a silent detection spell confirming that the body-bind had not been altered so far.

Harry's vision was starting to swim as the Unspeakable went on, but he was able to catch a few words as he was slowly deprived oxygen to realize that he was in deeper trouble than expected.

"That said, the subject is to be transfigured for proper restriction and sealed behind the _barriers_ until the _Chrono-loci_ can be extracted and returned to _Avalon_. A warning will be marked for future reference of when this strand would originate so as to prepare for the next time it escapes. As for the illegal traveler..." a brief pause to observe any reaction at all, again checking and finding himself both disappointed-- and to a degree, relieved, that nothing had changed.

"Subject is to be marked and bound to the Ministry if magical reserves remain at their current standard, allowing it to be properly utilized in the unfolding war efforts. If they do not, subject will be terminated following a blood-ritual to confirm which family it belongs to and a notation filed for future reference of when they are born."

The latter half of those words were jumbled to Harry's ears. His vision had gone completely black by now and his chest was bucking rapidly, struggling to draw in air through the weight of the spell locking him into position. He never heard the chains unbinding, only the thrum of magic in the air and his own heartbeat screaming out it's rhythm within his chest before losing consciousness.

* * *

Keeping the body bind in effect, Unspeakable Jacob finished his letter and performed a simple copier charm to duplicate it. One would go into the unofficial repository of knowledge within the Department, while the other would be on it's way to the Minister to be handled as he chose to.

Once again flicking his ash wand sharply, each sheet of parchment rolled up into a tightly bound scroll with a narrow band of blue carrying the Department of Mystery's seal around it. His eyes returned to the subject in question and acknowledged the rapid ascent and descent of his chest with a low swish and non-verbal order of, _Release_.

Four metallic _clunks_ filled the air as each chain dropped to the floor loudly, yet the body remained rigidly in place within the chair even without the chains to hold it up any further. One last confirmation that there was no change in the body-bind, nothing stirring in the _corelines_, before he turned away from the wizard and stepped past him.

Satisfied, Unspeakable Jacob summoned another owl and tied off the copy for the Minister to it's right leg, sending the dark brown barn owl on it's way before departing. He would see the original message delivered in person.

* * *

Forward progress was delayed as an Envoy for the Minister stepped into the Prime Chamber. His pale green robes reflected the eerie blue glow back against the walls, covering up the emblem over the left breast decreeing him as such in his role. He raised his black wand to the air and signaled his presence with a hail of red sparks against two of the blue torches, one diagonally across from the door in which he had just stepped from and another directly to his own right.

A burst of green smoke jetted into the air where the two met and faded away. If it had been another intruder the smoke would have burned any number of alternate colors, depending on just whom it was seeking counsel with the Unspeakables.

After an ten minute wait a door spun open and Unspeakable Jacob stepped through. "So nice to see you." the Envoy greeted warmly. With no forward response even after hesitating a full ten seconds for one, he cleared his throat and stood up a little straighter with a frown and furrowed eyebrows, and when he spoke next his voice was a shade or two cooler.

"_The Minister_ would like a confirmation on the two scrolls delivered to him this afternoon, as well as a third report in full detail of the progress being made as swiftly as it is attained. He also, ah," pausing and reaching into his green robes to ensure his words were as close as possible, the Envoy dug out a sheet of hasty scrawled notes and reviewed them. "_He _would also like to make full use of whatever it is _you_ are currently working on instead of discarding it as previously considered." looking up toward the Unspeakable, he waited for a reaction of any kind.

Silence filled the room and hung about quite readily. After half a minute the Envoy sighed softly and continued. "Should the experiment prove successful _you_ are instructed to retain both elements of the process and bend them into obedience. _That_," looking back at the Unspeakable with an air of annoyance, "is all." further silence. "I'll be sure to mark this up in my own report, you know." still nothing.

"Your official remark is silent disagreement. I can see that my time has been well wasted." turning around and opening the door back to the elevator hall, the Envoy made it one step through before halting in mid motion. "After processing the Ministers orders, my 'official remark' is to kindly remind him that the Department of Mysteries is currently spending the majority of it's effort on the on-going war with Dark Wizard Grindelwald." Unspeakable Jacob answered at last.

"The current subject of the scrolls sent earlier this day represents a threat that we are currently unable to fully afford the costs of experimentation on. Termination is the only available option at _present_." he turned and strode back through the door and sealed it shut behind himself. The rest of the Prime Chamber followed suit, and only after ejecting the Envoy did the lower tier body-bind release over him.

Stiffly rising and banishing the dust and grime from his robes, Envoy Pollux Black grimaced. "That, my good sir, was an action you_ will not _see done against me again." he swore in a soft tone, drawing out a quill and jotting down the confrontation to his notes.

Soon enough he would be filing his own complaints to the Minister, and if that failed to result in retributive action, then through his family name to the Wizengamot. He _would _see this particular Unspeakable accounted for.

* * *

The Ministers actions presented a new factor to consider. Ultimately he _had_ intended to go through the separation ceremony to draw the _chrono-loci_ from the wizard's magic, but after that and the blood-ritual to get a name, he was still considering if it would be worth killing him off or going through the effort to utilize him in the war. An unwilling soldier can cause a number of problems.

Now he didn't have a choice. They were still having trouble keeping track of Grindelwalds movements and scrying enough information to predict the next strike, and having it known by the Minister that a time-traveler was employed in their group would only cause problems once he was caught.

For that was something that was cemented in all their predictions. The current Minister was going to be taken hostage at some point in the events to come, and what his outcome would result in was still in the air. His knowledge of certain details couldn't just be wiped away, so it had to be sabotaged in slight ways.

The real information was being fed to the Head Auror in small doses, ensuring that a fighting cause was still under way as the Ministries troops were directed as needed, as well as setting up a viable candidate for future Minister should the current die.

He sighed tiredly. There was much work left to do to convert the wizard into a useful asset to the Department and the war effort. After returning to the preparation chamber located off of the Space Chamber, he levitated the subject into position and set him down on the left side in the middle of a multitude of interlocked circles of varying height.

All but each line was etched of copper, with only two being composed of loosely held iron runes-- the second-innermost surrounding the deepest-set and final circle, and the second-largest just inside of the original.

The entire scheme was fairly complicated in origin, containing ten loops in total from largest to smallest, overlapping to standing alone. The design, when empowered, was known simply as _the barriers_ for it's nature to contain or block out even the greatest of primal magic.

Unspeakable Jacob thrust his wand at the unconscious wizard and spoke his command. The form shrunk in on itself and began to turn a dark shade of black from head to toe, until after two minutes a small black rook, or castle, in chess terms, was left on it's side.

_Never was very good at transfiguration._ He thought, eying the slightly distorted proportions and jagged edges of the four spires representing the hair. _I doubt that will hold for long once things begin, but I've been wrong before. Here we go._ Stepping back from the first circle, his wand tip began to glow ethereal yellow as he placed it to the stone floor and chanted in Latin.

When he was through with the first verse he repeated it again, and the glow darkened about his wand. On the third rendering it was almost a sharp orange-yellow, and the glow spread outward from his wand across the floor as a mist at that point.

It began gathering together at the first circle before enshrouding it from view. Once it had trailed all the way around it sank into the second duplicate set of large circles at the top, one to each side and intertwining at the middle to create a narrow channel where they overlapped each other.

Again it ran all the way about these two and the smallest at their middle before trailing out into the next circle running partially through their upper layer and en-capturing the two small circles across from one another at the bottom. Then it descended around those two and ran it's course before branching off to the third-to-last circle connecting the four, top and bottom, together at their edges.

At last it wrapped about the second to final, almost on top of the innermost circle, before moving onward to it as well. Unspeakable Jacob drew his wand upward from the floor with a heave when the last circle had been coated in mist, and as he did a flare of blinding light illuminated the room as the runes came to life.

Mist was transformed to solid, burning light, scorching the stone around the outside edge and rapidly raising the heat within the chamber. Weary with the effort of will and the energy he had to sacrifice to awaken them, Unspeakable Jacob turned from _the barriers_ and retreated back toward the Time Chamber.

It would be hours before the _chrono-loci_ was extracted and contained. The process would be over in an instant once it could no longer hold onto the host, being expelled in a violent and often bloody fashion. He would return once they were separated.

* * *

Pain awoke him. A searing pain in his chest, within his veins, carrying upward to the shadow of a scar left on his forehead and cracking it open enough to bleed. Each drop sizzled as it ran down the side of his forehead and onto the interlocked sigils and runes of the barrier markings overlapping the stone floor beneath him.

His throat burned and if he could have screamed, he would have. _Surely... this... is what... the Cruciatus.. Curse... originated from?_ his thoughts were jumbled and agonized, every moment drawing outward from one into ten, and unknown to Harry the jagged black line embedded to his magic was screaming and writhing beneath the ritual to extract it-- in turn inducing agony to it's master.

For the line was not, as Unspeakable Jacob had believed, a _Chrono-loci_; or Time-intellectus, a being as-one with time and capable of seeing all-points therein, but a signature of the singular _Life-loci_, and a mark connecting them together.

It was a close enough realization to ultimately fail in the rituals intended efforts, if it didn't kill him first... or render him insane. He had no way of knowing how long he had been under the effects of this pain, nor that it had finally overcome and managed to break through the efforts of the Unspeakables transfiguration spell after the first hour had passed.

It grew to a point that he could hardly contain thought at all, drifting into a state of mind separate from his body, his muscles alight in flame as his natural magic and the mark of Death combated the magic trying to destroy their union. His bones were shattered and regrown in turn, ruining and rebuilding as the ritual drew harder and harder against it.

At last, _at last_, _the barriers_ grew dim and faded. The stench of roasting meat filtered throughout the air, and the stone of the innermost circle was dyed red with Harry's blood. His form was the palest it had been in memory, once he was capable of that kind of thought process again, and his entire body had grown gaunt and narrowed almost to bone.

For the longest time, as he lay there disconnected from upper-thought, he waited for the pain to return until the overbearing _hunger_ gnawing on his stomach drew him back toward baser instincts. He sluggishly rolled onto his stomach and placed his hands and feet underneath his body and _pushed_.

The effort almost destroyed his all but broken muscles, and he sagged downward again before a few jagged black tendrils pulsed through his veins and spread to the most critically damaged areas to strengthen them. Struggling up to his feet in an almost hunched over position, the same occurred through out each point where his muscles screamed in protest. When that was done his cracked and battered bones re-knitted together again with black threads.

_Rise, Master of Death,_ a hollow voice echoed out of his mind-- and in an instant, he was flooded with emotion and thought again. He collapsed back to his knees in relief and frustration and confusion, a fleeting image of a shadowed figure in cloak and shawl hanging over his form. The image faded almost as soon as it came, but he felt a feather-light touch against his back and reached for it-- to find a soft material draped over his shoulders far sooner than he had ever expected it. _Bare my gifts. _

**End of Chapter Three.  
**

**Preview of next chapter:** Harry shrugged the Invisibility Cloak over his head and shoulders and moved toward the doors. _He knew this place_. It had been two years ago, for him, but he _knew_ this place.

_And so does that Unspeakable._ A scathing voice mocked. _Great. Now you've got Inner-Snape on your shoulder. _He shook his head to clear it. He needed to focus. Even with his families cloak somehow given to him, and yes he knew beyond a doubt that this was that very cloak, he was still naked and wandless in the most protected depths of the Ministry of Magic.


	4. Chapter 4: Preparations unheeded

A/N: As Blah said in their review, the last update seemed to cut things off mid-way, and I can see after reviewing over the lengths of the previous three chapters that they seemed shorter than preferred. For the moment, at least, chapters one and two will remain separate, while chapters three and four have been merged together. This new chapter four will hopefully reach a satisfying point in the story before breaking off again.

With that said, thank you to all of my readers and subscribers.

* * *

His head whipped around toward where his right hand was current wrapped over the left shoulder and clutching onto a thin, silky material. His eyes roamed over the space of his back and shoulders to find them gone, missing from natural eyesight, and he felt his breath hitch up a notch.

_It can't be..._ he thought, disbelief evident. He ran his fingers through it again and pushed up to his feet awkwardly, drawing the Invisibility Cloak around to his front side to truly be sure. _It is._ He thought again. Staring down at the reverse-side of the Hallow within his grasp, Harry finally realized just how cold it felt to his touch; bone-chillingly so, and for just a moment he wished he still had his old holly wand to cast a warming charm over it.

But the feeling passed as the left over heat from _the barriers_ and inset rings kept the area within and around them more than hot enough to counter the chill of the cloak. He grimaced and swung it back over his shoulders, swallowing his shout as the ice-cold cloth met warm skin, gripping the edges tightly least he suddenly drop it, and shrugging the material over the back of his head.

It fell over his face and eyes with a feeling of finality to it that he couldn't help but find unnerving-- it was exceptionally uncomfortable to shift from one sharp temperature to another so rapidly, for the cloak seemed to be drawing the warmth trapped beneath it inward and and cooling the air underneath it with every breath he took. _Why is it doing that?_ he wondered.

Rubbing his arms to try and draw some of his own body heat to the surface, Harry looked about himself before crossing the distance toward the door cautiously. _If that Unspeakable returns now, I'm in no shape to stop him, let alone fight. _

Thankfully for him, the door was unlocked and slid easily open to his seeking hand. He took a long look about himself and felt recognition rise up from memories of the night Sirius died. _He knew this place._ It had been two years ago for him, but he _knew _this place.  
_  
And so does that Unspeakable_. A scathing voice mocked. _Great_. Harry thought, _Now you've got an Inner-Snape on your shoulder._ Considering his state of things, this may or may not become a worry for down the road. He shook his head to clear it. He needed to_ focus_.

Even with his families cloak somehow given to him, and yes he knew beyond a doubt that this was that very cloak, he was still naked and wandless in the most protected depths of the Ministry of Magic.

He couldn't have named particularly _what_ this room was, but he had a vague recollection of where the other doors in this room would lead him to. Getting back into the hall with the elevator would be his biggest problem, as the doors in the central room would always spin in place. It could take him hours to get to the surface if he even made it _that_ far.

His considerations were put to a hold as one of the doors opened and the same Unspeakable from before strode inward. He stopped in mid-step at the ajar doorway in which Harry was still standing and whipped out his wand within seconds.

* * *

There wasn't time to rest naturally within the Department of Mysteries. Always something needed to be worked on. It was for that reason that the "'barracks'", if you could truly call them as such, were created not far from the Hall of Prophecies. Any time an Unspeakable grew too tried to properly function in their assigned task, they would retire to the small rotating doorway and find themselves shuffled into one of a hundred expanded cracks in the wall.

The size-to-expansion ratio left little room for comfort, and for some time sleeping upright was almost as tiring to get used to as the rest of the title of Unspeakable was. Regardless, the space within was six feet tall by two wide and four deep. A simple drawn curtain after entering prevented more than a single occupant from being moved into that _compartment_.

Regardless, the "'barracks'" were created not merely to give an Unspeakable time to rest, but to fully hide them away in preparation for their return via Timeturner. Truthfully, _every_ hour of every day was put to the fullest use.

Unspeakable Jacob rested fitfully within the compartment he was shuffled into. He had never grown accustomed to the awkward dimensions of the space, and when he awoke nearly two hours after entering he felt almost worse than before. Covering a yawn with a grunt, he drew back the curtains and stepped into the revolving door.

A blurred moment later and he was turned around and facing the hallway leading toward the Hall of Prophecies. He slipped one hand beneath his robes and drew out a small and chipped bronze object, laying it over his chest, and then his ash wand. _Tempus._ He supplied non-verbally, and his wand rose to burn the numbers into the air. _Two hours of miserable rest._ He thought in annoyance, clearing the numbers away and bringing up his other hand to spin the bronze object several times over.

Around his form the events of the last three and a half hours were played in reverse. A light brown owl flew by, once with a scroll wrapped about it's leg and then back again in the opposite direction without it. His own two-hours-younger self emerged from the rotating doorway and wandered back toward the Space Room.

If anyone had been around to see him before going backwards, his form would have appeared to have been wrapped in ethereal white lines and faded away into thin air.

Regardless, the effect finished and deposited him around the same time as he began making preparations for the illegal traveler in Courtroom 9. He slid the Timeturner back beneath his robes and began walking off in the direction of the Time Chamber, where he had been previously assigned watch, and set about in those duties until he needed to check on _the barriers_ and the subject within again.

* * *

Dropping to the floor, the Unspeakable pressed his wand to it and released a splash of reddish pink light in a wide area across it. It drifted forward a certain space in rapid succession before slowing to a crawl in it's outward march. _I don't know what that is, but it can't be pleasant._ Taking two steps forward slowly Harry edged around the widening light on his way toward the door across from the Unspeakable.

He hesitated near the next door, unable to open it without being caught out, and turned to face the other man and the light quietly. He was sure the noise of his breathing had to be amplified by the chill _of _and _beneath_ the cloak, but so far the Unspeakable hadn't made any other sudden movements.

But then he swished his wand through the air and conjured a set of ropes from the wall he was beside across the hall toward the open doorway. Once firmly connected at both ends another two swish's followed and the rope became interlocked stone, forming a narrow yet solid walkway across.

He did not yet cross it, however. He continued to scan the range of the room as his _stunning field_ grew. Harry was pressed closer and closer against the walls by the ever-growing light. _Think!_ he commanded of himself. _There _has_ to be a way to get out of this that doesn't rely on waking up tied to a chair again!_

It came to him as the doorknob pushed up against his back painfully. Thankfully the noise was muffled by the cloak, but it still made him tense up in preparation for spell fire. Hesitating just a moment more he inched forward and to the side of the door and cautiously drew the cloak up from his back, leaving it draped over his shoulders and head still-- but only just so. The rest of his backside was left open to view if the Unspeakable shifted too far to the right.

Harry thrust his right leg up against the wall, while using the Invisibility Cloak to wrap his left hand over the doorknob almost silently. Cold-sweat ran down his body. The light was almost upon him before he pulled his other leg away and pressed that foot to the door, his right hand held against the wall beside him tightly.

The pain of his awkward position, slightly angled against the corner of the room and against the door itself, left the muscles in his lower arms and legs aching. His fingertips barely held the Invisibility Cloak against the wall, and with every moment that passed he could feel the material being tugged against by gravity. It was only a matter of moments before his right hand was visible against the wall-- but would it be _that_ which gave him away, or the inability of his arms and legs to grip the surface of his terrible position any longer?

The Unspeakable surveyed the room one last time as the light had reached the entire floor in that direction before stepping up onto his transfigured walkway and approaching the chamber housing _the barriers_. He left the _stunning field_ behind as he entered.

* * *

To say that he was surprised would be an understatement. Even though he had taken precautions in the Space Chamber, he hadn't truly expected to find nothing left behind of the subject but a mass of dried blood in the center of the rings. _That_, coupled with _the barriers_ being inactive, was enough to cause him worry.

He summoned an unbreakable vial to hand and with his wand broke away several fragments of the liquid of life before sliding them within it. The rest of the blood was _Scougified_ away from the surface before switching the ocular spell on that he had used to view the magical aptitude of the subject earlier that day.

The stone was left glowing moderately where the blood had soaked into it, and the copper rings of _the barriers_ continued to shine in a vibrant yellow hue, but what disturbed him was the tall black imprint of a figure standing within the center ring. To be more accurate only the outline was left, and it was _that_ which had a blackness about it that seemed to absorb any light nearby. The yellow glow of the rings faded near this imprint.

_That has never occurred._ _Why is it occurring, and what is it that could drain _the barriers_ of their ancient essence?_ he thought. Staring at the imprint made his eyes burn and he felt a headache growing just behind them. Shaking his head sharply and turning from the outline, he canceled the spell and left the room and paused on his walkway to consider things.

The field had yet to activate within the Space Chamber. "The loss of essence to _the barriers_ has to be investigated. The runes may have become cracked or faded from the separation process, in which case the subject would have been killed to free the _chrono-loci_ from their agreement and allow it to wander as it felt." he spoke to himself in a low tone.

It was beginning to become a real threat. "This has reached a point of emergency. I can not continue on by myself without risking contamination of the natural order of events-- but we can't afford to take anyone else off of the situation with Grindelwald." he grimaced again as he had earlier that day.

The illegal traveler was possibly loose, or the _chrono-loci_ he had brought with him was. "_Finite_." he cast aloud and dispelled the _stunning field_. It faded from sight quick enough and he banished the walkway over it as well. "The problem now arises as to who is contributing the least to the war and can therefore spare their energy to help me." He strode toward the end of the Space Chamber opposite from which he had come-- the one in which his subject was currently hanging against.

* * *

Muscles clamped down in place and bones locked into position by the previous black tendrils, Harry ground his teeth together to endure the agonizing ache and protest from his body. He wasn't even sure how it had happened, but he had been desperately clinging to his position and begging his magic to do _something_ of use for him.

It had responded, or something within it had, for he found his limbs perfectly held in place as through they were made of wood or steel rather than bone and flesh. If he hadn't been put through the pain of the last hour or so, he may very well have been unable to keep asking for it to remain in place, unsure just when it would fade or even if it would if he allowed his mind to drift away.

After ten minutes or so the Unspeakable emerged from the smaller chamber and paused to talk to himself in a low voice. Another minute or so passed before the unknown spell coating the floor was undone and, to Harry's frustration and panic, the man walked straight toward his current holding place.

_Release! C'mon, release!_ he thought. As if suddenly realizing it was only natural to falter under such pain, his body spasmed from nearly everything beneath his neck to his toes and sent him crashing to the ground. Not even his Invisibility Cloak could muffle such a clatter even if it had landed beneath him.

The landing dazed him for a moment, and it agonized his arms and legs to scramble as he did, but he managed to get to the side before the tale-tell red _stunner_ followed by a pair of pale blue and yellow spells that he had never seen before rushed at his general location.

As the blue spell hit it chains erupted from the wall to overlap across the door, preventing Harry from going through it if he wanted to. The yellow spell and the stunner burst into motes on contact with the door or walls. Crawling beneath his Invisibility Cloak fuller Harry worked along a wall and tucked himself into as small a target as he could become.

Unfortunately for him it wasn't small enough. The impact of spell fire against his lower back through the cloak drew out a pained grunt. The intended effect of the body-bind was negated for the most part by the Hallow-nature of the Invisibility Cloak and Harry's own closer tie to Death following the _life-loci's_ appearance in the _barriers_ room, but it still left a feeling of sharp numbness behind in it's wake.

_Think dammit! You're going to get killed if you stay here any longer!_ he shouted at himself. Another image rose from the back of his mind of the last time he had been under spell fire within the Department of Mysteries-- to be precise, of the time just before that. Of the Hall of Prophecy.

Another spell slammed into his prone form and he couldn't keep the grunt toned down in time. The Unspeakable honed in on it and amplified his tier of magic to the next level. _Those Death Eaters managed to Apparate in here, didn't they? And the Order? Does it _have_ to be within the ground floor to work?_ he thought desperately as his left leg went entirely numb from the next spell.

He shut his eyes tightly and focused with everything he had as the next body-bind locked off his arms. _Somewhere safe.. somewhere safe.. c'mon!_ the final spell slammed into his head before he could finish even trying to Apparate. Conscious thought slowed to a crawl within his mind and this time, the motions to secure him would not be undone so easily or lightly as they had before.

**End of Chapter Four.**

**Preview of next chapter:** Bringing his wand into the air, Unspeakable Jacob slashed it downward and to the left, then harshly back to the right at a further downward angle, leaving a sharp blue trail of fire in it's wake. He took a step around and repeated the gestures, making a connecting line.

At six steps he was back into position and brought his wand up one last time, merging beginning with end and now adding the words necessary. The trail of flame descended and sank beneath the subjects skin, leaving behind a pale blue scar beginning at the right shoulder and wrapping around the chest, then again from the left shoulder along the back.

It vanished from sight starting at the point of origin until it was gone altogether, and now marked as property to the Ministry, even should he find a way to escape once more and try to disguise his form again the scar would burn it's way to the surface with a simple calling.


	5. Chapter 5: Explanations much overdue

A/N: Once more thank you for the reviews and subscriptions, they make my day :)

* * *

_Voices murmuring softly in a language he could not understand_, _but in a tone that was hard to ignore even in this addled state of mind_, having endured it off and on for the better part of his Hogwarts years, _surrounded him_. It sounded like some of them were awed, suspicious, confused, questioning.

He could not have truly stated how long it had been like that. Minutes, hours, days? His sluggish mind could not comprehend much more than _inhale_, _exhale_, _repeat_ at the moment.

At length the effects of the body-bind were released and Harry felt his head swim, his center of gravity feeling like it was leaning over the edge of a very high and precarious slope. "How did you come by this cloth?" a dry voice asked him from somewhere to the left.

Harry turned his head as best he could, not yet aware of the way he was tied up, nor that he had at last been gifted with a set of dirty gray trousers and shirt. "_Huh_?" he asked through the fog still in place within his brain, clogging down his thoughts.

More murmuring. One of them turned toward another and said, flatly, "_You held it too long._" and the lone voice Harry was able to recognize responded "_Under the circumstances, we couldn't afford to take any chances with him. He already broke out of _the barriers_, or have you forgotten that?_"

Again awe, suspicion. _But no fear or worry._ he finally realized, not in the way the students always had. He was still so confused and tired. A different voice piped up clearly and slowly, stepping directly into his line of sight, and lifted a glimmering cloak up.

"Where and how did you locate this cloth?" he asked. Harry stared up at him, then glanced toward the cloak, and felt a pang of regret and understanding as he looked at it. "That's..._ dads cloak_." he murmured softly. Alarm grew on the expressions of those around and behind him, but Harry did not notice it.

"Your... _father_ is to whom this cloak _belongs_?" the same voice intoned. Harry's eyes remained transfixed on it. "_Yes_." he responded slowly. "... Very well." turning from him the man the voice belonged to approached the voice that Harry recognized. "_Do you believe it possible the _chrono-loci_ was holding onto this as payment for the transaction? Or perhaps as part of their agreement?_" he asked.

"_That is something to consider. But now I doubt it was ever a _chrono-loci_ at all that brought him here." _he paused and looked toward the one that had accused him earlier. "_The tests confirm it, that cloak is not part of this dimension. It's not part of _any _dimension connected to our own._" that voice stated.

"_He say's it's his fathers, but does he mean a human father or Death?_" "_The blood left behind on the stone was tainted. The goblins on our payroll can't even positively align it to one of the old families. The potential results we were given list Black, Gryffindor and Slytherin as possibilities of 31%, 17%, and 12% likelihood with a heavy dosage of unknown._"

At last the voice Harry recognized walked back around and, taking one of Harry's hands into his own palm-to-palm, pressed his ash wand to the back of them and intoned in a firm tone "Do you swear you are not possessed by a _chrono-loci _and have no intentions to seek one out?" Harry's gaze ascended to the mans. "_Yes._" he answered after a long moment. A nail of flame pierced through their hands, drawing a pained grunt from the Unspeakable and a whimper from Harry himself.

It cleared away some of the murk in his mind, washed out a fraction of the power of the charms currently obscuring his thoughts, but it could do nothing of the Veritaserum he was drugged with.

Adjusting the wand-tip to another position, the voice asked "Do you swear you are not a part of the opposition of, and that you will later give aide to, Wizarding Britain in the war against Dark Wizard Grindelwald?" now Harry could almost place who the voice he recognized belonged to, and he understood the questions a little better, drawing his answer out even slower than before as he began to doubt what good it would do to respond.

At length he answered. "_Yes._" and a second nail of flame drove itself from the wand through their conjoined hands. Harry shouted this time in pain as it brought further clarity to his mind. The Unspeakable, he realized, ground his teeth together to remain silent. _What is this?_ he asked himself, struggling against his bindings.

Once more repositioning the wand-tip, the Unspeakable intoned in a low growl "Will you willingly and honestly align yourself to the Department of Mysteries in the war against Dark Wizard Grindelwald?" and this time, this time Harry found himself resistant. He struggled all the harder to get away, for he did not want to answer, he did not want to feel the agony of another nail. At last he shouted his response. "No!" and, despite his effort, a third nail of flame pierced through their flesh and bone.

Drawing his wand away with a hiss as the modified Unbreakable Vow finished their union, tying the two together, the nails of fire slowly flickered out and left behind three dark scars in a triangle on the back of eachs hand.

Harry had recovered enough of his mental faculties to realize where he was and the situation he was in. "What are you doing to me!" he shouted. "Determining what you are and where your loyalties lay." the voice that held his families Invisibility Cloak answered.

Harry stilled. To be surrounded by Unspeakables, bound, and under question of his humanity? _No, no no no! This is all going to hell!_ he thought vehemently, his panic from before rising up. Seeing his duress a cold vial was drawn from one of their pockets and pressed to his lips. "Drink. Calming drought." he was told. He kept his lips firmly shut.

The Unspeakable in question sighed. "You could be dead right now, but we need strong wizards in the war. You're strong enough to warrant your own predicament-- If you were weaker we wouldn't have to bind you so tightly or severely." he said, "You have to understand _our_ side of this problem; you've come from a point in time we can not confirm. You are twice as powerful as the majority of wizards now. You are marked with a sign of creatures of abnormal supernatural abilities and little judgment or care for human life, and you carry a cloak you say is _your fathers_, but you don't even have fully human blood when we test it. You represent such a threat that we can not simply question you under normal means." he finished on a hard note.

Harry's panic was not soothed by these words. He could see them dissecting him somewhere to figure out what they wanted, and the very fact that he was altered in such ways scared him deeply.

Recognizing the terror building up, the Unspeakable wrenched his jaws open and shoved the potion down his throat. Harry sputtered and choked as he swallowed what he could against his will. He relaxed against his chair with a shudder.

"Feeling better? Then good. You couldn't give us the answers we needed in that state of mind, but we had to have a guarantee to some of our inquiries before letting you become rational." the same Unspeakable as before explained. "Do you understand?" Harry nodded his head. He still felt vaguely ill about the situation.

"Then good. What we want to know right now is how did you get ahold of this, and do you even know what it is?" he asked. Harry grimaced. He resisted for a few moments before answering. "I don't know how it was placed on my shoulders, but I heard a strange voice speak to me. It told me to rise after the agony I was placed under a while ago, to bare it's gifts. I think it was Deaths', but they were supposed to just be a fable, only created by exceptionally gifted wizards." Harry explained in a rush as the Veritaserum forced his words out.

"So you admit this cloak belonged to Death, not your father." "The cloak _was_ dads, he meant for me to have it before Dumbledore borrowed it before their death, and he gave it to me for Christmas seven years ago. But it can't be Death's cloak of invisibility. The Peverells made it." he stated again, feeling both angry at himself for explaining these things and embarrassed all the same.

A hiss of breath being inhaled through clenched teeth by a few of the Unspeakables. The one speaking to Harry turned toward them. One stepped forward swiftly. "Are you the master? Did you unite them? Do you know where the others are?" he asked sharply. Harry flinched and clenched his own teeth together to resist answering. "_What do you think you're doing, Rookwood?_" the one Harry recognized from before demanded in the same unknown language as they had been conversing in earlier.

The one questioning Harry waved the other away, placing a hand to Harry's shoulder and gripping it tightly. "Do you know where the others are?" he asked again in the same tone. "_Nngh_.. _yes! _And _no! _Grindelwald has the Death Stick, and Dumbledores going to get it from him, and then Voldemort will steal it from his grave and he'll kill me with it in the Forbidden Forest!" he panted, hesitating only a brief moment, and in that moment another spoke up with "_Langlock_!" ensuring his tongue glued itself to the roof his mouth.

The Unspeakable before Harry turned with anger on his face toward the one to cast the spell. It was the other to breath in sharply in understanding a minute or so prior. "This information is both of the future and forbidden to anyone outside of the Death Chamber. If you can not control yourself any further, I will see to it you are dealt with personally, _Unspeakable Rookwood_." he finished in the same unknown language as before to keep the subject of their questioning in the dark on their names, least he reveal any further future information and risk corrupting the natural order of events.

The urge to answer the questions asked of him made Harry struggle against his bindings again. Anger rising at being chastised in such a way, the Unspeakable asking of the Hallows retreated from the subject with a dangerous gleam in his eye. "We'll continue this later. For now you will be kept under watch until we can verify how much of a threat you are. Someone get me the antidote to Veritaserum before he goes mad trying to answer!" the one holding his fathers cloak spoke up. It was administered before a _Finite_ was cast. Harry slumped in exhaustion.

"_We should bind him now. If he ever gets free it is absolutely vital that we can track him down again._" the same one added after wards. "_... Very well. Unspeakable Jacob, you will do the task._" "_Why me?_" he questioned. "_Because you are the one his vow is bound to and you are the one to have caught him. It will respond better to you than any one else._" unable to deny this, he nodded his head. "_Once the rest of you have cleared out I will perform it._" "_Well then, you know where to find us._"

* * *

Five minutes passed before the subject and he were left alone within the _barriers_ room. After ensuring the illegal traveler was unconscious he sealed the door behind them.

Bringing his wand into the air, Unspeakable Jacob slashed it downward and to the left, then harshly back to the right at a further downward angle, leaving a sharp blue trail of fire in it's wake. He took a step around and repeated the gestures, making a connecting line.

At six steps he was back into position and brought his wand up one last time, merging beginning with end and now adding the words necessary. The trail of flame descended and sank beneath the subjects skin, leaving behind a pale blue scar beginning at the right shoulder and wrapping around the chest, then again from the left shoulder along the back. It shined through the clothing around and above it clearly.

A few seconds more passed before it vanished from sight starting at the point of origin until it was gone altogether, and now marked as property to the Ministry, even should he find a way to escape once more and try to disguise his form again the scar would burn it's way to the surface with a simple calling.

* * *

Things improved in some ways after that. Having sworn himself to the death should he fight against Britain, or in effect side with Grindelwald, the Unspeakables were a little more lenient. He wasn't trussed up and bound in place the next time they wanted some answers, though he was restrained and administered another dosage of Veritaserum.

In short order they gleamed enough from him of what he had done to arrive here to conclude he wasn't in any way tied to a _chrono-something_ or whatever they had called the creatures. His blood mystery remained a mystery for a time before discovering the new black tendrils coursing through his blood stream and effectively invading his muscles to support them. Going deeper to the bones was just as disturbing when he learned he had threads stitched through them.

Someone was making him their plaything. The Unspeakables did not ask him about the Hallows, for which he was very much grateful, but they knew enough from the cloak and how he had _called it_ to him, as they were putting it, to conclude he had some connection with Death in his ancestry.

They also, strangely enough, did not ask him his name. Instead they referred to Harry as John Doe. The angered Unspeakable who had demanded information on the Hallows from him in that first group-meeting was shuffling around in the background when he could, trying to find an opportunity to tear the information away.

As such, and with the binding the two now had, Unspeakable Jacob had come to be Harry's guard. The two had a frosty relationship in part due to all the suffering Harry had endured on the man's account.

Any time Harry tried to breach the effect the war was going to have, when it would end, so on and so forth his tongue was tied to the roof of his mouth and he found himself in a body-bind for anywhere between ten minutes to an hour. Harry soon grew to dislike Unspeakable Jacob all the more and no longer tried to help in that effort.

They were determined to foresee the effects of the war through their own means.

* * *

Weeks passed. Harry was slowly going mad kept under lock and key in one of these ridiculously tiny _compartments_. It was one of the few easily protected and non-important areas, mysteriously-speaking, within the Department. His guard remained on full time alert outside, waiting until he had the okay from his future-self to retire to slumber for a few hours and repeat that cycle.

Harry tried to pass the time by considering what he could do when he got out of this. He considered what _they_ were going to use him for once they were sure he could be used. He considered many a thing in that time frame before he couldn't take it any longer.

Eventually he demanded to be put to some kind of good use rather than be kept as a prisoner. He was reminded, in turn, that technically he should be dead right now rather than alive as an illegal time traveler and as such that he should count himself lucky, handed a pack of exploding snap, and shoved back into a random _compartment_ to pass the time.

The day came not long after that when he was literally flapping his way to freedom.

* * *

Unspeakable Jacob had gotten the OK from his three-hours-ahead self and made to retire as usual, but that was where things went south for this plan, as the future Unspeakable Jacob was put on the receiving end of a tier 4 body-bind.

In practical terms, any spell classified by the Department as tier 3 or below was legal. Tier 4 crossed into illegal territory and stood on equal rank with the Unforgivables for a one-way ticket to Azkaban. Anything of tiers' 5 and 6 warranted instant death when caught.

With Unspeakable Jacob restrained and unbreathing, his dying body was transfigured into a chess piece-- unsurprisingly a rook as he so favored, and then taken to one of the _compartments_ and sealed inside of the walls. If anyone ever managed to find his long dead corpse, it was not expected to be traceable back toward who had killed him.

The subject emerged as he usually did to ask again when/if he could be put to good use a few minutes after the act was done, right as scheduled following a rotation of guard.

He never saw what happened next. Tongue-tied, stunned, and bound with a tier 3 body-bind, it wasn't long after that he was little more than a sheet of paper tied up and bound to an owl's leg, flapping it's way out of the Department and on it's way to an unknown destination outside.

The man who performed the act remained hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak of Death, and he would make his way out after the subject once he was done with his second kidnapping, and the one in which he was originally supposed to commit on behalf of Grindelwald.

**End of Chapter Five.**

**Preview of next chapter:** "You said Dark Wizard Grindelwald had the Death Stick. The Elder Wald. Something about a Dumbledore getting it. _Which one_?" a harsh voice demanded in his ear. Harry could not see for the ocular-rending curse, meant to rob a victim of their eyesight one layer at a time, currently in full effect. He could barely speak for the damage done to his jaw, and he could barely feel for the position his body was arched and twisted into obscenely.

He had been like this for two hours, and he would _remain_ steadfast in his silence, regardless of the mans efforts to glean information of the Hallows and the future from him, and he would do so because he _could_ see just _one_ object still-- a white outline currently shining radiantly through his destroyed vision, and he could _feel_ deep within his bones that it was going to_ rectify_ all the agony he was going through and _then some_.


	6. Chapter 6: Crumbling desires

Few of the ministries workers were active at this point in the morning as Unspeakable Rookwood made his way forward from the lower levels up to the domain housing the Minister himself, just shy of the Auror Head-captains quarters.

Striding down the corridor with it's pale glow of torchlight toward the northern most end of the hall and toward the doorway hidden therein beside the tempered glass window, he began counting each step until halting nine paces down and two across from the center row of black and white checkered tiles.

It had taken him three weeks of investigation between his usual duties and spare activities in order to confirm where the key to that doorway changed to every other day, one of his fellow Unspeakable's contributions to the Ministers safety in the time following their confirmation of his... removal from office.

Paused before the the small checkered black tile third from the top and second from the center Rookwood banished it to reveal a set of tiny potion bottles no larger than his thumb. Drawing out the far right bottle he unscrewed the cork and placed the tip of his wand within, then restored the stopper and bottle and lastly the tile to it's place.

He approached the wall to his left and drew a tall rectangle into it with the end of his wand, then a small circle on the inside right. The outline left behind began to squiggle in place after waiting long enough and he reached out to run his fingernails under the edge of the circle and slowly twist clockwise.

A soft click followed and the rectangle of wall swung open to reveal a large blue oval office. Lining the walls were the portraits of the last three Ministers in term, looking down upon a moderately sized marble desk with a name plate resting on it, reading as 'Envoy BLACK, P.' and a stack of neatly organized notes and vials in a pair of wooden holders beside it.

A low sneer crossed the man's face at the sight of it. He had learned something about Pollux Black after much observation, and that was that the man had an obsessive streak to memorize details down to the letter. No doubt the vials contained the very memories he had deemed most important to retain and preserve against time and aging.

Stepping through and over the continued checkered floor he cast a silencing dome around himself and the portrait to the right of the desk, another simple flick of his wand ensuring the opening to the office shut before then snapping his fingers loudly beneath the portraits nose. The former Minister stirred and glanced about in sleepy confusion. "Hello? Someone around?" he questioned.

From beneath the cloak a sheet of parchment was drawn with the activation phrase scrawled onto it. The eyes scanned the message and glazed over before the portrait swung outward and left behind a folding step-ladder and a dark hall behind it.

Shoving the now worthless sheet back into a pocket Unspeakable Rookwood ascended the ladder and slipped into the room. At the far end a softly burning fireplace rested with a small shelf jutting from the right side at shoulder height, baring a black pot of floo powder. He already knew what lay in wait from one end of the hall toward the other, having helped construct the defensive wards.

Quietly striding forward the first of a set of wards blazed to life as he neared. Like a flowing waterfall the pale blue light ran from ceiling to floor and hummed with a fluid power coursing through it, and it resisted him for a moment before allowing passage forward; for this ward sought confirmation of the mark of the Envoy, Unspeakable, or Auror Head-captain - in order of importance during this time of war.

None of the alarms triggered though his token grew chilled within his breast pocket. Rookwood carried forward to the second ward in soft yellow precisely seven feet behind the first, a duller noise coursing through it and a measure for the intentions of those who would pass.

It was this ward that concerned him most, for though he had left behind a small flaw to exploit when the time was ripe it seemed probable his fellow Unspeakable's would have gone over it time and again in light of the travelers appearance.

As he neared the dull noise rose in pitch as if in warning until the moment he stepped through it and a faint crackle echoed across the hall in even further resistance; but it did not stop him fully, and after half a dozen moments he emerged with a narrow grimace and approached the third and final in the ward scheme before the end of the hall.

Quiet as death itself, the luminescent green ward flickered into view just before his foot made contact. He let out a hiss of physical pain as it passed through the Cloak instantly and made contact with his flesh beneath, and deeper than that down into his veins, before finally sinking down into the core of magic wound tightly within his chest.

In the instant between stepping into and stepping out of the third ward his magical reserves were ignited and siphoned off. A full third of his strength was deprived of him and used to power the ward again until next time, and he felt a sense of fatigue develop in his muscles and a dull ache settle into place behind his eyes the moment after it was done.

_But he had succeeded_. He was only grateful that the choice of _one third _rather than _two thirds_ of magical energy was not questioned by the others when he first proposed it, for the intent was to weaken those approaching the Minister rather than render them dead from shock.

Stepping up to the fireplace with a slight shake in his stance Rookwood dipped his fingers into the pot and drew forth a tablespoon's worth of the shining powder, staring at the flicker of light across the surface for a moment more before tossing it forward.

A rush of flame spun up out of sight as the tone darkened to emerald green, and Rookwood placed a preservation charm over the lid of the pot before shrinking and pocketing it. Then he placed one foot into the dancing fire and spoke sharply and clearly.

"Office of the Minister." he ordered as he ducked down and fully immersed himself. The short trip of tumbling lasted only a moment before Rookwood found himself on one knee on the other-side.

And just as he and the other Unspeakable's had seen, there the middle-aged wizard rested on his granite desk with a Wireless droning softly in the background on another message about how the war would soon be over, the peace of the dreamless sleep potion aiding the Minister in a time when he would have been far better off consulting his information at all hours of the night.

* * *

When Harry opened his eyes it was to the usual agony he had become accustomed toward after encountering Unspeakable's. His spine was arched obscenely with his legs twisting away and to the side, so that the slightest motion set the leg and hip bones grating against one another. His feet were pressed flat to the ground and twisted even further than his legs.

His arms had been drawn out far overhead and bound with biting iron cuffs, and he could hardly feel his neck and head for the blood rushing toward it. His voice was cracked with dryness and thirst as he called out, hardly able to believe they would go to this length before recent memories began trickling forward.

_Oh... oh, are you kidding me?_ he thought and tried struggling against his position. It brought more pain and his body was pulled into an even rougher position by means unknown. Biting back the shout that tried to escape his lips Harry looked around for any identification of where he was.

Only a single candle was lit and it's light hardly reached over to his body. Wherever he was was far too dark and chilled to be above ground level, even if it was night. Harry didn't have long to contemplate his situation before the crack of apparation filled the small room and a loud thud collapsed into a rough chair, shaking it.

_What the hell is that?_ a moment later and he had his answer as Unspeakable Rookwood flicked his wand through the air to ignite the other candles within the room, rubbing at his eyes warily and wearily. A thin slash mark ran the length of his left cheek from nearly the ear down to the jaw bone, sickly blood trailing from it.

"You have cost me a great deal this night." despite his look Rookwood's voice came out just as resolute and strongly as it had before his first subject was delivered to Grindelwald. "I have gifted the minister, but that was hardly of use. My master was pleased to have one less block to his progress, yet the gleam in his eye turned toward madness as he recognized the presence of the Cloak in my possession."

Calling a flask from some corner of the small room Rookwood took a slow drag off it before rising to his feet shakily. "I am now robbed of the Cloak, and your deceit has cost me even further." cautiously approaching Rookwood flicked his wand toward the wall beside Harry and a drawer slid out roughly.

"Apparently a barer of one Hallow can feel when it's brothers lay nearest. A convenient fact to conceal from me!" slamming the tip of his wand like a knife into Harry's ribcage, Rookwood silently cast the ignition charm and watched as a cherry-red glow wrapped about the first half an inch of wood.

The burn mark registered an instant later and Harry choked around the pain of it, which only intensified when it was dragged over pale flesh and left behind an ugly crimson gash. "I will learn all of your secrets this night, all of the events to play out in your time and the end results of this war. I will know my masters course of action before he commits it! I will know when his enemies would strike!" his voice rising in intensity, Rookwood drew his wand away and turned toward the extended drawer.

Harry's eyes had watered and run down into his tangled hair by now. "You will know torture as only the German wizards and witches have ever demonstrated it... and by the time I have worked through each _instruction_, each _tool_, I will know all there is to know of your soul on this night..."

* * *

Black blood lined the floor around his arched form, poisoned and healed over and over as flesh was melted through and muscles shredded. The effects of the potion to keep him conscious had long since given up and even _enervate_ could only do so much when shock pervaded a system so thoroughly.

The raw stench would have turned away all but the most potent of breathing and filtering charms, but Rookwood had grown accustomed to such vile assaults to his senses within Grindelwald's laboratories, and even if he hadn't the rage clotting his system would have been enough to ignore it.

What lay against the stone was a testament to the power of magic to accomplish whatsoever the caster could bring to focus. The latest addition to the destruction of his remnant-body was the ocular rending curse eating away at each layer a fraction at a time.

"You said Dark Wizard Grindelwald had the Death Stick; The Elder Wand. Something about a Dumbledore getting it. _Which one_?" Rookwood's harsh voice demanded in his ear. A piece of Harry's crumbling conscious thought recognized the tone and speech and summoned another barricade effort of will to ignore it.

He had been like this for two hours, and he would remain steadfast in his silence regardless of the mans efforts to glean information of the Hallows and the future from him, and he would _continue _to do so _because_ of the figure resting silently behind his foe with the white outline shining radiantly through his dying vision.

All of the agony he had endured had only worsened when the figure first appeared to him after the first hour, and yet... and yet his will to resist _flourished _with it's presence, and through every act of pain inflicted a resonance of reassurance rang throughout his bones and promised retribution in equal degrees.

Rookwood could not _hear_ how Harry's tainted blood cried for recognition from that figure, but the white noise was just as sharp to his ears as the other wizard's terrible voice. At length in further silence from the subject Rookwood picked up his blowtorch and directed it toward another splitting bone with the intention of melding it back together again only to crack it open down the line.

He did not have the chance to finish his work. The soft whisper of a breeze began to fill the room as the figure rose to it's full height and approached Harry's form. _Command vengeance and rise, Master of Death._ the life-loci spoke in it's hollow and stark voice.

"_Help me._" Harry's split mouth and torn jaw whispered brokenly. _As you command._ it answered before glancing sidelong toward the distance as if listening to anothers words. A long heartbeat later and it looked back down to Harry's broken and mangled form and placed one over his heart and the other over Rookwood's.

The Unspeakable threw back his head and screamed as never before, while beneath Death's left hand Harry arched just as badly. Each wound across the younger wizard's body flared in green light before black energy surged forward to engulf it, while across the elder's black spires lanced through his body and gradually ripped him open.

One minute and a moment thereafter and the life-loci drew back, keeping it's right hand held tightly to Rookwood's chest before departing just as it came... and taking a pale and transparent energy from the former man's body with it.

**End of Chapter Six.**

**Preview of next chapter:** When he recovered Harry found himself laying on one side beside the stone used to bend his back obscenely. The blood soaking the floor reflected his appearance back up to him, hauntingly pale and more angular and gaunt. His muscles burned when he used them to stand up, but he could feel again, and it came with a dark realization:

_Crucio _would never again fell him, not after what he had endured under Rookwood's hands.


End file.
